A Memoir To Us
by MollyDawes
Summary: Follow our favorite medic as she takes a trip down memory lane.
1. Chapter 1

Maybe, just maybe, we weren't meant for each other. Maybe in a parallel universe, then perhaps. But we both knew it was doomed from the start. Because that's what I do, I wreck things.

* * *

I'd underestimated the cold that night, I wrapped a shawl around myself but it failed to be a successful source of heat. I pulled my head downwards, with my chin pressed against my chest to stop the bitter wind from biting at it.

Night had fallen fast upon the hill and all about it swarmed grey clouds, hiding the stars. The ground became crisp, covered in a thin layer of ice that cracked beneath the heel of my pump.

Turning blue, my teeth began to chatter and I felt the cold in the air as I breathed. I pulled a strand of my hair between two fingers; it was like ice against my hand. Even the lids of my eyes suffered the effects of the cold, reducing my eyesight to a squint.

Thinking of him, I pulled myself together in preparation for the walk as I stumbled up the winding path, minding the way of tree roots and brambles that were ever entwining along the road. Each brick had spouts of different vegetation, unusual for the usually well-kept gardens. It had been many months since I'd visited and the cold crisp air felt like a million miles from where I'd been.

At night Bath felt warm and humid, the frost become one with the mist and great clouds of smog coated the rooftops. Puddles of rain that lingered in the cobbled roads were thrown up at the people huddled for warmth by passing carriages. Each day brought a hundred more agonies, with a hundred more children sleeping up against a building, and a hundred more of them dying. The stalls that once held grand collections from the dining tables of duchesses and dukes, held scraps that seemed unfit for the hounds that roamed the streets.

The house always looked different at night: shadows crept through the trees; the windows became stiff, trapping the darkness; the grand gate stood desolate- warning more so than welcoming. I pushed up against it with my one shaking hand. Creaking as it opened, the sharp screeching sent chills down my spine.

As I walked up the stretching path that lead to the door brambles attacked my ankles, tangling with the lace straps from my pump. Viciously, I pulled my legs away and ran for the door. I stood, my mind flashing back to him. To the love lost. My eyes fluttered shut, a soft, stream of tears making their way down my cheeks. "Never took you for a sap, Dawesy," A ghost of a voice filled my ears, a memory that I tried to lose. The house, which we once shared, looked worse for wear. Charlie insisted on a 'fixer-upper'. something to fill his days. But now, all I can see are the ghost of memories. The memoir to us.

* * *

 ** _Hello, all._**

 ** _I'm not sure if the Our Girl fandom is still alive but since my last visit, I've had some pretty remarkable life changes. For one, I've finished my degree, and welcomed a little boy: Noah. Tireless nights from feeds at stupid o'clock and starting a job in September is major, so I've written this in attempt to grasp my muse again, so we shall see where this takes us. It isn't the best, by all means but I left the ending pretty open so you can insinuate it as you'd like. If you would like a part two, you can private message me and I'll try my hardest to get you another segment. Please review!_**

 ** _M._**


	2. Chapter 2

"Will you tell us, Nan?" Her youngest grandchild, Charlotte Olivia James, though mainly known as Charlie, had asked. She looked up to Sam and he sent a glance, an apologetic glance at that. She smiled widely and nodded. Charlie was seventeen and was soon to be off to university and Molly couldn't be more proud. She just wished Charles had been here to see it. "Of course I will Charlie," She said. "I'll start from the beginning," She had promised. Molly reached down to grasp her journal, where she and Charles had written it down that very night.

* * *

Charles nervously checked on the roasted chicken in the oven one more time then turned to the table. The candles were lit, the china and crystal were pristine, and the flowers were fresh. He made a mental note to thank his mother the next time they talked for giving them her old china, crystal, and silverware when she redecorated their dining room and bought all new. He glanced at the clock as he walked over to turn the music on low; he had planned this down to the minute and Molly should be home anytime. He swallowed nervously as he stuck his hand in his pocket and reassured himself for sixth time (but who was counting?) that the little jewelry box was still there. He sat down on the couch while he waited, looking around their festive living room; neither of them was religious but they loved Christmas and Molly in particular enjoyed going all out with the decorations. The tree in the corner glittered with white twinkle lights, highlighting the tasteful red and silver color scheme. The colors were echoed in the greenery decorating the mantel and Charles smiled as he looked at the stockings he had insisted on. They were elegant and hand embroidered by Charles' grandmother. They had Molly and Charles' names with a rugby ball and a cheerful snowman respectively.

Charles was pulled out of his musings when he heard the key in the door. He jumped up from the couch and started towards the kitchen, listening to Molly hang up her coat while keeping up a steady stream of conversation. "I'm home! It's freezing out there and it just started snowing. Big, fat flakes. It's so pretty…I just hope it didn't mess up my hair. I think I got out of it quick enough, though. C, where are…oh." The rambling stopped as Molly walked into the kitchen to see the table, looking up at Charles with shining green eyes. Eyes that Charles found mesmerizing. ( _"You can't put that in there!" Molly hissed, prodding his chest. "I can, and I will," He teased, pecking her lips, "It's for the grand-kids."_ ) "It's beautiful. What's the occasion?"

Charles deflected. "Do I have to have an occasion to make a nice meal for my brilliant girlfriend?" he asked with a smile.

"Of course not. Is it ready? Because I'm starving. I haven't had more than a bowl of coco-pops since breakfast this morning."

"I can serve it up right now. Why don't you sit down and I'll get everything ready," Charles said as he started to turn away.

Molly caught his arm and pulled him back around. She looped her arms around Charles' shoulders and rubbed her chilly nose against the warmth of Charles', though she was up on her tip-toes to do just that. "Thank you for making me a wonderful dinner," she murmured softly. She tilted her head and kissed Charles softly on the lips, moving her mouth and deepening the kiss before Charles pulled away with a laugh.

"Now now, if we start that, dinner's going to burn. I thought you were 'starving.' Go sit down. We have the whole night and then all weekend together." Charles gave Molly a firm kiss on the mouth before turning her around by the shoulders and giving her a gentle nudge toward the table. "Fine. But there better be plans for cuddles after dinner. I want to light the fireplace, turn off the lights and curl up on the couch with you under a blanket while we watch it snow."

Charles thought of the ring in his pocket and smiled. "I'm sure we can manage some cuddles tonight. So how was your day?"

* * *

Charles took the last sip of his wine as he watched Molly eat the last bite of dessert. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach going crazy, and he decided that this was the perfect time. He took a deep breath as he moved the dishes to the side and then held his hand out in Molly's direction. "Dawesy, give me your hand."

She looked at him in curiosity, but didn't hesitate to slide her hand into Charles'. He rubbed his thumb over Molly's knuckles and looked up into her eyes, taking one more deep breath before he started talking.

"Molly, I love you so much. I knew as soon as I saw you on the tarmac at Brize. I knew you'd be trouble. But what I didn't realize was that you would crawl your way into my heart and not leave. Cheesy, I know. But I love you, so much. I know I fucked up, by getting shot and all, but I love you so much. I need you. I-I need you to function. Y'know when I met you that I never even comprehended that the cockney with the most amazing eyes would be the one to break my don't get in-fucking-volved moto." He paused, knowing that he had gone on a tangent. "Will you swap Dawesy for Jamesy? Molly Dawes, marry me?"

"Yes yes yes! I can't believe…when did you…I thought…" Molly gave up and just held on tight, feeling one of Charles' arms tighten around her waist as his free hand rubbed circles on her back. Molly composed herself after a moment and pulled back, sitting on Charles' lap and keeping her arms looped loosely around his shoulders. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his softly then pulled back to lean their foreheads together. "I love you so much and I would love to marry you."

Charles smiled as he pulled Molly's left arm down between them, taking her hand and sliding the ring on her fourth finger. He kissed the ring and wrapped his arms around Molly's waist again. "Now how about those cuddles?" he asked his fiancé.

* * *

Molly let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and ran her fingers through her short, sliver hair. "My ring," She said, taking her necklace off for Charlie to look at. She smiled at her love for the ring. "It was your great-grandma's, and now, it's yours," She said, slipping the tiffany ring onto her middle finger. "What does an old git like me need a ring like that for?" She asked her, a giggle escaping the old woman's lips. Sam stood in the corner, shocked. "Are you sure, Nan?" Charlie asked, admiring the ring that adorned her middle finger. Molly nodded, smiling.

"Sammy? Come give me a hug," She had said, standing and opening her arms for her step-son to walk into. He did just that and Molly James wrapped her arms around his frame as tightly as she could. "I love you, I'm so proud of you, Scamp." After Charles' death, Molly had begun calling him Scamp, in a way to honor him.

Later that day, Molly passed away in the house she and Charles shared. The one they built on love and hope.


End file.
